White Rose of Ferelden
by Shenko007
Summary: Alistair has been chosen to become King and envisions a future where Ferelden is in her glory and Ariel ruling beside him. However, reality hits him hard after being told of devastating news and he must deal with it in the best way he can. Minor spoilers.


A/N: A Dragon Age: Origins fic, there is no money earned from this. Although I wish I had Alistair…hmmm. Anyways, this is a one-shot fic and there are spoilers for the ending, so beware of that. If you haven't played the game, you really should as it's really awesome. Make sure you have time because it's very addictive. The main focus is Alistair and his beloved female Mage. Happy reading!

The Fall of the White Rose

"What? You want me to stay here? I need to be there, fighting with you, killing dark thingys."

Alistair was clearly not happy with the decision his lover had made for him. His usually kind eyes hardened into steel and he took her hand, leading her to the side so to avoid being overhead by their party members. When they were well enough out of eartshot, he began to talk in earnest to his fellow Grey Warden.

"Ariel, do you remember what you said to me after our first night together?"

"Alistair, please do not make this any harder than it has to be. I…I can't bear to lose you. This Kingdom needs you, not me."

"Just answer my question, love, please."

Ariel was taken aback by his command but realized that his experience with his sister had hardened even the goofy man she had come to care for and eventually love. She could feel the tumultuous battle going on in her head, as both her emotions and her logic warred with each other. She never told Alistair about the dark offer proposed by Morrigan and the fact that she turned it down, despite her knowing of one of them ending up dead. However, just the mere thought of Alistair touching that woman gave her cold chills. Also, she had a very strong feeling that Alistair would not be happy in seeing his son at the opposite end of the battlefield. Thus, it was better to spare him that agony of having to fight his own blood. At least, that's what she thought anyways.

When Alistair noticed that she was contemplating on something, he realized that her decision was final and there was nothing he could do or say to change that. His body relaxed then and he stepped forward, getting even closer to her body. He gently tipped her face upwards so he could see her silver eyes that were glistened with moisture. She was extraordinarily beautiful, even in a saddened state. Without words, he kissed her passionately and enclosed her within his arms. The party members couldn't help but watch the heart-tugging scene and even Oghren sniffled slightly. Zevran noticed this and murmured something that the Templar couldn't hear. Apparently, it was to lighten the mood as the dwarf elbowed him in the side albeit in a playful manner for there was no force behind it.

After a few moments of peace with his lover, he let her go and was startled to see a white rose in his hand. She smiled at him and was pleased to see the realization dawn on his face, that it was the same rose he had given her a while back.

"I wanted you to keep this, to remember me by in case something happens." The Elven mage's voice hitched slightly.

"Ariel, I…"

His protest was silenced by her finger and he inwardly groaned at the sense that this could be their final good-bye. However, he refused to acknowledge it and grinned.

"You know, there's no way that the Maker had us survive all this just to die in the end, right? I know I will see you again. That's a promise."

Ariel didn't want to say anything. She wanted her last memory of Alistair to be happy and smiling, despite the ache in her heart. Instead, she kissed him on the cheek and whispered something tangible in his ears before heading towards the direction of the party. He clutched at the white rose tightly in his hand and placed it underneath his breastplate, right above his heart. Little did he know that the rose would protect him from a devastating blow later in the battle.

-o0o-

A bright light burst from the high tower where the quarter were fighting the Archdemon and Alistair, after having cut off a darkspawn's head off, looked up to where his beloved was. Not paying attention to his surroundings for a brief moment, a dagger was thrust towards him and hit him square in the chest. With the breath exploding out of him, he jerked back to reality and without thinking about it, brought his shield around him to hit the enemy in the flank, thus knocking him down. He finished off the darkspawn and was about to fight more when he realized that the darkspawn wasn't trying to fight him, he was trying to escape. In its haste, it noticed an obstacle and tried to eliminate it before fleeing the city. The men of Denerim cheered at the sight of the fleeing darkspawn, but his heart felt like it was broken into two. To confirm the dread he felt within, he suddenly realized that the rose he placed underneath his breastplate had been torn into pieces, withered under the powerful blow of his deceased enemy. The realization at her words, _I wanted you to keep this, to remember me by in case something happens, _made him suddenly strike out for the tower, ignoring the concerned shouts of Bann Teagan and his followers.

If someone had asked Alistair what exactly happened, he would have told him that he couldn't remember getting to the tower. He just saw her crumbled body lying next to the Archdemon's mangled head. Leliana was holding her friend's body, tears trailing down her cheeks. The templar rarely saw the Bard cry, her temperance toughened by years of fighting and hurtful betrayal. To see such a rare occurrence made him sprint towards the body, hoping against everything that it wasn't her. And if it was her, that she would be alive again.

Leliana heard footsteps and was ready to defend her friend's body lest the darkspawn want to defile it. She lowered her daggers when she saw that it wasn't the darkspawn running towards her, but the Templar who shoved her aside rather roughly and fell to his knees besides the motionless mage.

"Ariel? Love?"

A shaking hand cupped her cheek, still warm to the touch. Alistair gathered her in his arms and gently shook her in an effort to bring her back to consciousness. A few moments passed until he noticed a slight fluttering of the eyes and silver slivers were looking back at him. There was still life in them, but the eyes lacked their usual brilliance.

"…Alistair?…Did it…is it…?"

"Yes, darling. Ssshh. Don't speak now. Save your strength. Wynne will kick my arse if I don't let you rest."

"You still have the rose, don't you?

Alistair didn't have the heart to tell her that the rose was broken and he noticed the symbolism behind it. She _was_ the White Rose, the hero of Ferelden. And now she lies broken.

"Yes, love. I…I still have it…"

"You've…never…been a good liar. It's what I like about you…" She coughed slightly and the Templar's hopes were dashed when he saw blood dribble out of her mouth. Wynn was still at the gates, healing the other soldiers in the defense of the City of Denerim. By the time the spirit healer would get here, it would already be too late.

"Ariel…please…please don't leave me…I'm a terrible king…and…"

Her hand palmed his tear-streaked cheek and it was taken in a much larger, much warmer hand. Alistair's eyes closed as he relished in the softness of her skin, the still present scent of Andraste's Grace, a flower that only blooms in times of great strife.

"…You'll be a good king. You _are_ a good King and I'll…" Ariel was finding it hard to breathe and she willed herself to stay in the land of living, to have the strength to tell her beloved that she'll always watch over him. "I'll…always…love…you…"

The elven mage's vision started to darken and before she departed from this world, she saw a much older person standing behind Alistair and noticed that he shared the same looks as with her lover. He gave her a warm, welcoming smile and offered a hand to her, in which she took. Then, the world darkened around her and the last thing she heard was a heart-wrenching scream of her name.

_Alistair will join you in time_

She was startled at the voice, no, the idea resonating in her head.

_For now, he has a duty to his people. When the Calling comes for him, you can go to him when his passing is near_.

_Thank you, Maker_.

Without further ado, the pair walked into the light and disappeared.

No response came from her and he shook her more vigorously, trying to pull her back from the Dark Hall of the Dead, a place where no one leaves once having entered the domain of the Maker.

"Baby? Please, Ariel? Ariel…" Wet drops fell on his beloved's face and he noticed dimly that it was raining. How fitting it would be for the Heavens, for the Maker to mourn a mortal's passing. Then he realized that while her face was slightly dampened from the rain, the rest of her was quite dry and the warmth of her living still lingered in her deceased body. He touched his own cheek and knew that it wasn't raining. That the Maker wasn't crying over the Hero of Ferelden. It was him.

The realization that the Maker perhaps didn't care about his lover's passing released the dam and more tears flowed heavily, dropping at a steady pace unto her face, still beautiful in death. He felt a gentle hand lay on his shoulders and he knew without looking, that it was the Assassin elf, the one his beloved had saved despite the assassination attempt on her life. How much has she changed since her Joining? How many people's lives did she touch?

"Alistair," the Antivan crow whispered to him in a low voice, his thick accent unbearable, making it hard for him to comprehend his saying, "The others are coming."

His warning was not unheeded and the Assassin elf immediately regretted his action. His weeping stopped and in the place of a man having lost the love of his life was an imposter he had never seen before. The templar gathered her in his arms and stiffly faced his future subjects. His despair was masked by a steeled expression of a man willing to lead, willing to be _King_.

_So it has come to this, my dear Ariel_. Zevran loved the female elven mage but it would have been selfish of him to keep her to himself. She needed someone like Alistair, someone strong yet kind-hearted at the same time. Someone who could make her laugh while she was down. For instance, in the aftermath of her friend's execution, by her hand, the Dhalish elf didn't have the heart to comfort her. Instead, he stayed away from her, not wanting her to see his hesitation, his cowardness in comforting her. Later, while mustering up his courage to see her, Alistair was already in her tent, comforting her. Soft laughs could be heard followed by low murmuring and Zevran knew without a doubt that he had ultimately lost his chance in finding love. It would be a lie to say that the Assassin wasn't jealous of their increasingly strong bonding and whenever one of them was hurt, their partner appeared to be in just as much pain, as if he or she were greviously injured. He had talked to Wynne about it when she approached him at a time after the quest with the dwarves. In talking to her, he discovered that perhaps they were truly meant to be and him being selfish was only going to make him miserable. Thus, he changed his habits and became more accepting of the pair's relationship. Now, though, both men were suffering and while one had the time to grieve, the newly anointed King had to contend with rebuilding the kingdom. For the first time in a while, he wasn't jealous of Alistair. But all the same, he still yearned to stay with the group and help out. That was what Ariel would have him wished to do.

Alistair held the fragile mage, who fit quite right in his arms. As if everybody knew that something terrible occurred at the tower, the large mass of Denerim's soldiers and the Grey Wardens' allies were approaching the King. Irving, the First Enchanter, was the first to approach him, a shocked expression on his aged face. He allowed the First Enchanter to touch her, even though inside he just wanted to run away and bury her in the forest she loved so much.

"She was the best of us all," was all Irving could say before falling back into silence, not trusting his voice to hitch.

"Yes and we will hold this day in remembrance of her sacrifice, so that our descendants will always remember that their freedom came not without a great cost and should not be taken for granted."

It was a noble statement from Alistair and everyone but the King knelt on their knees, bowing their heads as the Revered Mother recited the Chant of the Passing:

_Blessed Maker,_

_ He who is our benign guardian,_

_ Take this woman into your gentle embrace_

_ As we took her into ours_

_ And as we live in her sacrifice, _

_ So shall she live in our memories_

-o0o-

In the years following the end of the Blight, the Kingdom of Ferelden was in its golden years, led by the charismatic King Alistair. His first action was to execute Anora, knowing that with her alive, there would always be a threat to his reign. Thus, with the line of Mac Teyri ended, he could execute his actions with a well-rested minded. The Circle located outside of Lake Calenhad Docks was torn down due to the thinning of the veil and a new one was erected just outside Lothering so that the Mages would be the first to know of the signs of another Blight starting. The Tower was named after her and he allowed the Circle of Mages fully autonomy despite initial protests by the Knight-Commander Gregoir. A pair of large statures was built just outside the Tower of Sorrow, the place where his beloved died. On each side stood the statues of the Grey Wardens who affected both his future and that of his kingdom. Duncan stood at the left side to symbolize the beginning of his journey and Ariel was at the tower's right side, symbolizing the end. Alistair personally oversaw the sculpting. Although everyone could see that he was spending all his time rebuilding Ferelden, only his close companions knew of his frequent visits to the marked grave of his beloved at the end of each night in Fortess Weisshapt. Not even his advisor had knowledge of his trips. Zevran, on his way to intercept an assassination attempt on the King himself actually, saw him just standing quietly next to the edify of Ariel. Not wanting to intrude on his friend's privacy but also making sure no enemy takes advantage of his temporary weakness, Zevran stationed himself a few feet away from the King.

Within such close proximity now, he clearly heard him say something, words like rose and the dreadful one, the Calling. On their travels and in some random conversation, Zevran had asked what a Grey Warden would be like. If it were anyone else besides Zevran and any member of this misfit group, Alistair would have just deflected the question with another joke. However, he was serious in his response and Zevran was told of what would happen to the Grey Warden at the end of their life.

_Grey Wardens only have a few decades to live before the Calling. They either feel this or see this in a dream, told by another Grey Warden that it is time. In either case, he or she will travel to Ozammer, to the Deep Roads to die in battle and avoid a fate worse than death. _

"Come out, Zevran. I know you're there," a voice called out and the elf chuckled at him being outed by what Morrigan had said earlier 'the stupidest member of the group.'

"Vell, it appears that not even the Antivan Crow Chief could sneak up on you."

"Only those with the taint."

Immediately after the battle with the Archdemon, Alistair suggested in rebuilding the Grey Wardens, and as it were, all of his friends survived the joining, a feat unheard of in all the centuries of Grey Warden existence.

"So, you know about this then?"

"That the time has come for you to go? Yes. Perhaps I can suggest in all of us going with you. We did start out at the same time, more or less."

"No. I need someone I can trust to help rebuild Ferelden. The people look up to you and they won't accept some stranger leading them, even if it's with my wife. Problem with Anora was solved already."

Alistair vehemently spat out the name of his sister-in-law, who was given a benign execution. Luckily, a great effort on Eamon's part, he had fathered a child with a noble woman, who looked very similar to his loved one. There were no hard feelings between them when he told her that the whole purpose out of their relationship was to father an heir. Ophelia was her name and she took his news with good grace.

After the deed, he promised her that should she ever attempt to take the reins of the kingdom herself or sully the names of the Grey Wardens, it would not be without consequence. He still could remember seeing a slight fear in her eyes and almost regretted in warning her. However, he was King and he no longer wanted everyone to think of him as a bumbling idiot with bastard origins.

The Antivan Crow Chief couldn't help but be somewhat saddened at the visible changes in Alistair's mood. He missed his friend's goofy personality and quirky jokes. Unfortunately, the situation called for a King, a person who would lead Ferelden in both times of trouble and peace. As he walked closer to his friend, he caught sight of movement in the trees behind Alistair and was about to kill a potential assassin when Alistair stopped him.

"Don't. You would be wasting your effort. He's already dead. I ran into him, pun intended, on my way to…to…see her."

"Let me make sure though. I know from experience that Assassins play dead to place their target in a state of complacency before moving in for the kill."

"I doubt he will come back to life without a head." Alistair remarked in a wry tone, his eyes still stuck on the name eteched on her tombstone.

The tang of deadly knives being sheathed rang throughout the fortress. _You have changed, my friend. And I almost don't know you anymore._

"So, I beat you to the target. Maybe I should contend for the Antivan Crow's spot, eh?"

The elf couldn't help but burst laughing at Alistair's suggestion, which was followed by an eyebrow wriggling in jest to lighten the statement. _On second thought, he hasn't changed at all._

"So, when will you leave?"

"Tonight, actually. I already saddled my horse, Starfire and packed enough supplies. If you wish, you can accompany me but please don't die out there. Ariel would kick me if I let you die in some stupid, forsaken area like the Deep Roads. Leliana is coming even though I don't want her to. She wanted to spread the stories of how I died valiantly, blah, blah, blah."

"She is a bard, my friend. That is what she does best."

"I know."

Another moment of silence occurred and both men were clothed in silver moonlight as they gazed on the White Rose's tombstone.

-o0o-

The trio set out for Ozammer at the first sign of dawn and they had to stop several times due to Alistair's weakening health. The Taint was growing stronger by the hour, weakening both his mind and body. Several times, he had collapsed and would find himself being bathed by the Bard, the woman he did not want to see. The Bard and the Assassin questioned his survivability on his last trip, but Alistair was so determined to reach Ozammer, to the Deep Roads, that he managed to do just that. Any other person would have died days before reaching the Dwarven capital.

Upon arrival, with him almost leaning on Leliana, they arrived at the entrance to Ozammer and Oghren was there to greet them. The dwarf took in Alistair's state with mild concern, but he knew that a warrior doesn't go down dying in the taint. He will go down fighting and taking as many darkspawn as he could. So, he led them to his house and gave Alistair a draught that would temporarily strengthen his health and stamina. Thusly, Alistair recovered by mid-afternoon and with his companions at his side, struck out for the Deep Roads.

_I will see you again, my beloved_. That was Alistair's thought as he entered the dark caverns of the Deep Road. _And I will take as many darkspawn with me as I can._ The group minus Oghren stood patiently outside opening of the main darkspawn horde and they didn't have to wait long. The first wave came at them but was dispatched without effort, even for Alistair. This was the same for the second and third wave. However, the fourth and fifths were challenging, consisting mainly of Darkspawn emissaries and Ogres. Alistair, ironically enough, didn't die from an Ogre's fearsome clutch but rather from an enemy's mage.

The darkspawn emissary struck a blade right through Alistair's breastplate, in the same place as his near-death incident in the Final Battle. Only this time, there was no rose to protect him. The cavern's temperature dropped very suddenly and Alistair grew stiff, unable to move as smoothly as he used to. He still had the strength to grab unto the sword that was stuck in his body and the Templar grinned wolfishly at his next victim. The emissary foolishly tried to yank back the sword but its efforts were wasted as an arrow struck it in the forehead. _Leliana_…._she beat me to it!_

The darkspawn fell and with its death grip on the sword, it yanked the weapon out of the former King of Ferelden, causing his blood to splash heavily on the rocky ground. The other darkspawn fled at the sight of the leader falling to the ground. In Alistair's case, his friends rushed to him, with Leliana in the lead. She caught the falling knight and gently guided him to the ground, placing his torso across her knees. Zevran landed lightly at the King's side and his tongue clucked when he saw the gaping hole in Alistair's chest, where his heart would be.

"It looks you've got what you wanted, my King," said the Bard, sniffling as she watched her friend attempt to breathe. The King of Ferelden hacked a sickly cough, with blood dripping from his lips. Leliana wiped his lips clean with a cloth while Zevran just stared at the dying mortal. _Another friend lost_. _How many more must die from this stupid taint?_

"Please…*coughs*…burn…my body…where she was…burned…"

"We will, Alistair. And your tomb will be placed next to her, instead of in the Tomb of the Kings."

"…thanks…both of you…"

His eyes suddenly grew distant and misty, causing Leliana to clutch her friend's body even tighter.

"Leliana…I see…her…Ariel…"

"Go to her, Alistair. She's been waiting for you, for a long time." Zevran told his friend and he watched as the light of life dimmed in his friend's eyes. Leliana cried out as her companion died in her arms, a smile gracing his features in death.

"Know that your sacrifice will be remembered, and that one day, we shall join you," recited Zevran, remembering the exact words Alistair had said to Ariel on that fateful day.

-o0o-

The King's funeral was displayed publicly and despite Eamon's protests against the burning of the King and entombing him in a place different from the Tomb of the Kings, Alistair's wishes were met with. His body was burnt on the pyre and whoever remained of the original group that set out to help the last survivors of the Grey Wardens oversaw his tomb being built right next to hers, just outside of Fortress Weisshaupt.

His heir, Alistair the Second, was only fifteen when his father passed away but Eamon had made sure that he was ready for his important role of being King. His mother, Ophelia, with Alistair's warning in mind, did not even attempt to advise her son, knowing that she was being watched by the Antivan Crows. With Zevran as their Leader, she couldn't do anything without grave consequence. However, she was a good lady and took joy in seeing her son grow up. Even though she knew that Alistair had never loved her, she did love him in a way and every year, she would visit his grave on the day of his death. At the tombstone, she would inform him of his son, who remarkably looked like him except he had silver eyes, just like Ariel's. She would later tell Leliana, who was the only remaining companion of both Ariel and Alistair, that she felt like she was being watched by them and could hear laughter. She of course denounced it as a sign of early senility but the Bard took it seriously, for the two had shown up in her dreams to announce that it was finally her turn to join them. The last sign of the Bard was indeed at their graves, reciting the Chant of Sorrow and of Hope.

Thusly, the Kingdom of Ferelden slowly lost its heroes over time but their descendants will arise to take the helm of the future. That, however, is another story to be told.


End file.
